


One of a Kind

by Xeldablade



Series: Love Over Logic [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Star Trek Beyond Spoilers, Yorktown, mentions of Spock Prime - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeldablade/pseuds/Xeldablade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uhura finds herself in Spock's quarters, which for many reasons are much warmer than her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of a Kind

By means of Spock’s request she walks with him to his quarters, which is fine with her because it feels like her boots are murdering her feet and walking any further seems entirely unnecessary. When she steps into his slightly overheated quarters, they’re not much different from hers apart from the strict tidiness. It’s not like she has many items in her own quarters anyways, but her room never seemed to be quite as pristine as Spock’s.

She plops onto his couch and prys off the death shoes from her feet. She’s already giving herself a massage when he speaks, still standing near the doorway with his hands folded behind his back.

“Did you have a pleasant evening, Nyota?”

She smiles, her head facing the floor. “I did. Better than I expected it to be.” He tilts his head when she glances up at him, and she explains further. “I didn’t think you’d be there because of your mission report.”

He takes a few steps towards her, his slow strides catching her attention. “As first officer, one of my primary duties is to ensure the emotional stability and general well-being of the captain. Therefore, I came to the logical conclusion to make the assurance of his temperament a priority.”

The corner of his mouth edges upwards ever so slightly. She can tell he’s teasing her in that Vulcan way of his by the amusement in his eyes. “Oh, I see. So you went to see Jim, then.”

“Partially, yes.”

“Hmm,” she says, pretending to think about what she was going to say. “Well if I remember correctly, it wasn’t _Jim_ who you were kissing on the dance floor for two minutes straight.”

“Two minutes and sixteen seconds at varying intervals, to be precise.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re avoiding the accusation.”

“I am merely correcting your inaccuracy.”

“Right,” she draws out the word, rolling her eyes dramatically.

There’s a beat of silence. The room seems a little warmer than what it was a second ago and she licks her lips to compensate for the dryness. She’s probably welcome to get herself a drink, but she doesn’t want to be presumptuous and decides that she doesn’t really feel like moving anyways.

She can tell he has something on his mind by the way he doesn’t join her on the couch and proceeds to stand a few feet away. Her conjecture is confirmed when he speaks again. “Nyota, there are matters in which I wish to discuss with you.”

It’s a statement that she’s been expecting to hear for a few days at this point, so it doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to talk to you, too.”

She stops rubbing her feet and instead focuses her attention on his face. His eyes are still as bloodshot as before and she knows that he hasn’t been sleeping well, in addition to his work load with everything regarding the Franklin and the new Enterprise. And if he hadn’t suggested they talk, then she would probably just let him rest. But she can tell by his imperfect stance that what he wants to say is bothering him more than he lets on. And if he’s anything like her, then _she’s_ the real reason why he hasn’t been sleeping adequately. So it’s only logical that they talk about things now.

“I feel it is necessary to promulgate to you my thoughts regarding recent experiences and discoveries of mine.” He takes a deep breath. “Despite my previous uncertainty of the state of my occupation, I have elected to remain in Starfleet.”

She nods hesitantly. She’s heard him say variations of this a few times now, so it’s hard to celebrate just yet. But this time his words are accompanied by a hint of finality, and it sparks her interest. “Why do you say that?”

“Earlier today, directly after Doctor McCoy was making final treatments to my injury, I received a call that pertained to Ambassador Spock. I was granted access to belongings of his that were procured from New Vulcan.”

She raises her eyebrows. They haven’t had the time to talk about Ambassador Spock in detail yet, and she didn’t even know if he wanted to. So that fact that he’s mentioned him and now has some of his belongings is, needless to say, a bit surprising to her.

“He had personal belongings from New Vulcan?”

“Not entirely,” he says as he begins to walk into his bedroom. When he reemerges a few seconds later, he’s holding a silver metallic box with words engraved on the top. “Most of the items seem to originate from his own previous reality, some even dated not until many years from now.”

“Oh wow,” she breathes as he brings it to her. Her feet sting as she stands to get a better look, but she’s too mesmerized to care.

Her jaw drops once she can see it up close. She determinedly keeps her hands at her sides, unsure if Spock would want her to touch such a special object. She reads the sleek lid, which is adorned with a Starfleet insignia followed by the words: _Property of Ambassador Spock_. It’s surreal to see something like this, housing everything that Ambassador Spock had deemed important enough to keep. That fact that it even exists is fascinating. She knows it’s not common for Vulcans to value items of sentiment, but she also knows that Spock is no ordinary Vulcan.

It’s not typical of a linguist to speak in fractured statements, but she can’t help it. “So does that mean…that all of these items are-”

As if reading her mind, he answers the question she couldn’t seem to finish. “In some capacity, it is not inaccurate to say that some of his possessions are from the future.”

Her eyes go wide. She wonders if the items will actually be made at some point, or if they were only ever created in Ambassador Spock’s timeline. The prospect makes her head spin more than it already was. “And this is what made you want to stay in Starfleet?”

“Partially.” He separates his gaze from her to observe the container still locked in his hands. “Inside are several artifacts such as Vulcan scripts and other handwritten texts. But the most significant piece of sentiment to me was a photograph.”

“A picture?” It was a strange concept, to think a Vulcan with superior memory would have such a thing, as it’s primary purpose is to allow its owner to remember some place in time.

“Yes. It is an image of our current bridge crew on the Enterprise, dated 2287.”

She does the math quickly in her head; that’s 24 years from now. She’s so curious and has so many questions that she’s overwhelmed by them. She stutters a bit before she can voice any coherent words. “We’re all on the Enterprise?”

“Yes. However, it appears differently than the variation we are accustomed to. It varies in its internal configuration.”

She loses herself in thought for a moment. “Do you think their original Enterprise crashed, too?”

“It is possible.” She notices how confidently he seems to answer, and she thinks that he’s probably thought about it, too.

Still amazed by everything he’s telling her, she shakes her head in near disbelief. She eyes the box, which he’s still holding right in front of her.

“You may examine the photograph and the contents if you wish.”

The offer is tempting, with the lid of the box the only obstacle in satisfying her bubbling curiosity. But it just seems too special and personal for her to tamper with. It was obvious that Ambassador Spock hadn’t intended on anyone but himself seeing the picture, and the fact that he was now gone only made the sentiment even more precious.

“No,” she says as she forces herself to shake her head. “It should be yours. It must have meant a lot to him, so I think maybe it should just be for you.”

“Understood,” he says as he nods and sets the box carefully on the table beside them. The matter must have been taxing on his mind because he seems less tense than he was before.

She conjures a playful smile. “But just tell me one thing. Do I look hot when I’m older?”

He tilts his head to the side again as if confused, but his eyes are sparkling. “The temperature at which your body generates heat cannot be determined only by-”

“Spock,” she interrupts, trying not to laugh, “You know what I meant.”

Which he does, because then he answers truthfully. “You look…exquisite.”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling too widely, and fails. “That’s a pretty emotional statement, Spock.”

“Due to the factual nature of the claim, it is hardly a statement of emotional persuasion, but rather of a verifiable truth.”

She feels heat rise in her cheeks and looks at the floor again. She wants to keep bantering with him and making jokes, but there’s still other matters pressing on her mind.

She looks at him again as she fidgets with the necklace that she wears, the one that belonged to his mother and he had given her so long ago. “So that picture specifically is what made you want to stay in Starfleet? Because you want that future, too?”

“It is not so much the picture itself, but rather what it represents.” He hesitates for a second, and she notes in her head that she doesn’t seem to be the only one with minor speech impediments this evening. “Due to my lineage, there have been numerous instances where I have felt isolated. There have been many places where I have felt…unwanted.” He pauses uncharacteristically and breaks eye contact with her. But when his eyes find hers again a moment later, she can see stars in them. “The Enterprise is not one of them.”

She can tell this is hard for him to admit, but at least he’s opening up to her again. She knows all of this about him already but it seems to reverberate stronger now in the wake of the death of his counterpart. She can’t possibly imagine what that must feel like, and how a Vulcan of all people would even begin to deal with that.

She listens intently as he continues. “From personal experience, I am able to acknowledge firsthand the advantages of serving aboard the Enterprise, many of which include forging personal relationships among the crew. In addition to establishing these relationships, I also have the opportunity to analyze and appreciate the purpose of the Federation, whilst practicing a majority of my own moral beliefs. Considering these individual factors, I believe he kept the photograph primarily as a symbol of the importance of Starfleet.”

She takes in every word, figuring his reasoning and lets it sit with her. Everything he’s described makes her think of Altamid, Edison, and everyone else on that planet. The Enterprise crew had fought to find each other again amidst the chaos that surrounded them. And as she thinks of what exactly they were all fighting for, she paraphrases his explanation. “He believed in unity.”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

She rubs the blue stone of the necklace delicately, the surface smooth against her fingers. “I never realized how important the crew was to him. And to you.”

“As he had more experience with the prospect, it is logical to assume he developed a more significant attachment to the concept.” He takes a step closer, reducing the space between them to a mere few inches. “This is why I decided to stay in Starfleet, to acquire knowledge and cultivate experiences with the crew.” His voice lowers. “And with you.”

She feels alleviation in her chest and takes a deep breath. He’s been tentative about the idea of going to New Vulcan for a long time, but never before has his reasoning for staying been so extensive. She can’t help but feel a sense of bliss, and it radiates from the comfort of her mind to the pounding in her heart.

She’s suddenly aware of how close he is to her and it’s hard to think. He tends to have this effect on her when he’s this close; her brain goes hazy and the loudest noise she can hear properly becomes her own breathing. A type of inexplicable heat surges through her that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Her eyes wander and she finds herself looking the place on his body where his heart is. She wonders if there’s still pain there, and the gratefulness she has that McCoy had been there to help Spock makes a sudden revival. The thought that he may not be here right now, expressing his thoughts and ideas like he is, is unfathomable.

Her hand hovers over his side, where the injury was only hours ago. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you require a more precise answer?” He’s teasing her again, and she can’t stop her smile as much as the blush that appears on her cheeks.

She navigates her hand under his shirt and puts it lightly over his heart, the warmth of his skin running quickly from her hand to the rest of her body. He doesn’t wince or show any signs of pain. But she knows how stubborn he can be, and he wouldn’t show any signs of discomfort unless the pain was anything but bearable.

He is as statuesque as ever, apart from the rapid pulsation of his heart from under her palm. Her mind is clouded in the haze of his presence, and she can tell by the intensity in his eyes and his slightly parted lips that he feels the same way.

“Do you have that mission report to finish?” she mumbles half-heartedly as her eyes flutter shut and his forehead rests gently on hers.

His voice is so soft that it makes her shiver. “Although I have made clear my admiration for Starfleet, the expeditious progress I have made regarding my duties related to the Enterprise allow me the time to prioritize more intimate pursuits.”

She smirks as his hands hold her face, gentle and easy. Before their lips touch, she remembers how she could never seem to get enough of him, no matter how close he is or the quantity of him that transpires.

But now there’s only one of him left in the universe, and she thinks that she should savor everything about him as much as she can.

It’s the last clear thought she has until the next morning.


End file.
